


Running for your life: the anatomy of survival

by ilovemywife



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Gen, Horror, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:07:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23726560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilovemywife/pseuds/ilovemywife
Summary: Vignettes of a story, mostly hidden from view.Arthur Morgan is being hunted.
Kudos: 9





	Running for your life: the anatomy of survival

It was cold in the mountains, and Arthur was scared. There was much to be frightened of, with Pinkertons trailing them, Dutch's plan collapsing beneath them, Sean missing and Jenny dead with Davey halfway there, but his fear ran much deeper than that. He kept it to himself, trying not to let it be obvious enough to worry the others when there were much more pressing issues to attend to, but Arthur was well and truly afraid for the first time in a long while. 

Surreptitiously, he kept his eyes moving on the horizon, never letting them rest too long in any one place. Something was following him. He could hear its footsteps in the soft snow, both barely audible and startlingly clear over the blizzard that assailed them. As he continued forward, he instinctively knew that it wasn't a man. No O'Driscoll stepped that lightly. It couldn't be an animal; they'd all be taking shelter from a storm of this calibre. If the weather hadn't been so god damn terrible, he'd've likely stormed over with a fully loaded rifle to where it was hiding and seen what it was once and for all. He kept that thought of how courageous he'd be in different circumstances close to his heart, trying to warm himself up from within with what could be valor, instead of imagined horrors about what could stay so calm and quiet and close in a god damn blizzard.

He must've been less than a mile away from the gang's caravan, trying to stay reasonably close as he scouted ahead to lessen the chances of everyone getting lost. He had even been able to hear the occasional yell between gang members carry on the wind every so often, a comforting lifeline when he could barely see past his lantern's light. Despite this, as the seconds trickled by, he felt as though they were being quickly separated by an insurmountable distance that neither sound nor body could cross. Paranoid, he considered how much ammo could be spared as noisemakers for if the worst happened and continued forward, soothing his increasingly skittish horse with a gentle hand on its neck, more for his own comfort than the animal's. 

The growing feeling of being stalked was oppressive and almost physically pressed in on him, popping his eardrums and squeezing the air out of his lungs moreso than the bitter cold did. Every breath felt like something was trying to claw its way down his throat with millions of tiny, dead hands already fully set and cooled by rigor mortis. He tucked his chin deeper behind his collar and thought, maybe it's the ghosts of everyone who's died up here because they went up a damn mountain pass they didn't know alone. The joke fell flat, even in the privacy of his own mind. He shivered.

And then, suddenly; he saw it. Or- them. Two small eyes shining far off in the distance- or was it just a couple yards away? As he squinted and tried to distinguish the eyeshine from the flurries of snow bouncing blinding moonlight around midair, his horse tossed its head, agitated. Before Arthur could react, it flicked its ears back and reared back in the air, almost violently unseating him. It screamed piercingly, the whites of its eyes visible in its terror- all Arthur could do was cling to his saddlehorn and try to wrest it back under control so it could relocate its footing. Even with what seemed to be pure fear and adrenaline coursing through his veins, the rational part of his brain guided his body into autopilot; it would be no good to snap an ankle in a ditch hidden by deceptively tall snow. 

Their mutual panic was enough to make him break his fearful silence, and he called out as loudly as he could over the general din, "Woah, boy!" 

His lips cracked alongside his voice and the taste of copper slowly seeped into his mouth as he continued placating his horse with gentle clicks and soft words. He licked where his mouth had shallowly split open and did his best to avoid getting any blood on his collar; and then, as suddenly as the panic had come, it went, and he felt more than heard two hoofs settle back onto the ground.

Barely a moment had passed before he was looking around in a near panic, the sudden, extreme movements of his torso making his horse snort discontentedly and stomp its feet as it followed Arthur's lead; but what he was looking for had disappeared. He could no longer find those two shining eyes where they had gazed dolefully out at him. He couldn't find them at all. All that was left was the wind whipping fresh, light snow into his eyes and making the red skin of his cheeks burn with hundreds of frozen kisses.

It felt as though he'd been sitting there a long while. There were flakes of ice frozen into his eyelashes and brows, the edges of his beard where it peeked from behind his collar frosted likewise. He gripped his horses' reins tighter and listened to the leather of his gloves groan as they tried to flex instead of tear in the inclement weather. When he finally took a deep breath, it felt like the first one he'd had in a long, long while.

For the next several minutes, he aimlessly let his horse walk where it pleased, vaguely scanning the horizon for another flash of those eyes, his own pair burning from staying open too long in the freezing temperatures. He let himself indulge in the search for what he knew simply wasn't there anymore before shaking off the stupor that had possessed him and snapping his reins to get back onto the mountain's path. He cleared his throat against the cold and forced his hat on his head more snugly; best not be idle when there's so much work to be done.


End file.
